


In the Vaults

by Sherlocked_64621



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Evil Albus Dumbledore, Hermione Granger Bashing, Lord Harry Potter, M/M, Molly Weasley Bashing, Ron Weasley Bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:27:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28402461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlocked_64621/pseuds/Sherlocked_64621
Summary: Following Voldemort's defeat and Sirius's death at the Battle of the Ministry in Harry's Sixth Year, Harry becomes Lord Potter-Black. In his vaults at Gringotts emerges a forgotten Betrothal Contract written by Harry's grandfather binding Harry to Lucas Bourcier, an older man from a prominent french family. As Harry's world crumbles around him as betrayals come to light, maybe Harry can find a new future with Lucas and new friendships in the unlikeliest of places.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 140





	In the Vaults

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter only my own characters and plot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never actually written a fanfic before so please let me know if this is any good and anyone would read it. Honestly, if you hate I would like to know too :) I'm looking for a beta as well! Thanks -21

Harry was almost positive that he was going insane. Besides having actually stooped to reading his potions textbook, he had completed his summer homework two months before returning to Hogwarts. Hermione would be proud; Ron would be appalled. In addition to this, Harry had mapped an interesting crack that ran across his ceiling (he personally thought it looked a bit like a goblin holding a steaming cauldron while riding a hippogriff) and organized Dudley’s massive hand me downs in his wardrobe from “just plain ugly” to “abhorrent”.

Laying on his back on his thin mattress, Harry groped at the bedside table besides him before finding his wand. He had finally given up on sleep, it was nearing four am, and pointed his wand lazily toward his trunk at the foot of his bed. A swish of his magic and the small library of his schoolbooks engorgio-ed. He had been ecstatic when the shop owner of the furniture store had informed him that such magic was passive and therefore not punishable as underage.

He grabbed a random Transfiguration textbook and settled in for a mind-numbing diversion from the nightmares. Although, he was of course overwhelmingly relieved that Voldemort had been killed in the battle at the Ministry, it had come with a high cost. Distracted by his grief, Harry jumped when a loud rapping noise came from the window. Another quick tap, tap, tap of the owl’s beak had Harry tumbling out of bed before the noise could reach the Dursley’s. The bird seemed offended at the delay. Harry fumbled with the tie of the letter before freeing it. He sat down at the desk in front of the window and distractedly fed the owl a treat, paying no mind as it flew back into the night sky. He was able to read in the faint moonlight, “To: Mr. Harry Potter, From: Gringotts Bank”.

Harry’s forehead wrinkled in confusion as he stared at the letter. In his 5 years in the Wizarding World, Harry had never received mail from the bank. It was with no small amount of trepidation that he finally cracked open the seal and began to read. The letter stated:

“Dear Mr. Potter,

We have recently been informed of the death of Sirius Black, Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black by the Black Account Manager. Although Walburga Black nee Crabbe attempted to remove Sirius III Black from the family tree, she did not have the authority to do so. As Head of the House of Black, Arcturus Black, never formally removed Sirius Black from the family tree or renounced his position as Heir, Sirius Black was Head of the House of Black at his time of death. As his Heir Apparent, you Harry James Potter, are now Head of the House of Black. Please come in at your earliest convenience to claim your Head Ring. As of this time the Black Account had been transferred to me.

Account Manager for the House of Potter and Black,

Griphook"

For a moment Harry just sat there with what he was sure was a dumbfounded expression. He had thought that Sirius had been disinherited from the Black family, and he definitely had never mentioned making Harry his Heir. What was a Head of an Ancient and Noble House? The confusion made Harry ache. He was sure that Sirius could have shed some light upon the issue, or simply lent a warm hug. Willing himself not to cry, he had cried too much over loosing Sirius, Harry resolved to visit the Bank the next day. He owed Siris that much.

In the morning Harry groggily woke up, cursing the thin beam of light shining through the crack in his curtains. Three hours of sleep was certainty not enough. With heavy feet he got ready for the day and hurried downstairs. Thankfully, the Dursley had left for vacation that morning, so Harry simply called a cab and walked out the front door. If the driver was concerned about dropping a 16-year-old off at a shady pub, he didn’t mention it. Harry didn’t question his luck. Navigating his way through the crowd of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry eventually made it to the back-storage room. A few taps of his wand latter and the brick wall opened to Diagon Ally. No matter how many times it happed; he couldn’t help but watch in awe.

Harry kept his head down as he walked through the Ally and shuffled his way into the Bank. As it was Summer Hols the Bank wasn’t nearly as crowded as Harry was used to and he walked right up to one of the tellers. The goblin seemed uninterested in the wizard standing before him, so Harry nervously cleared his throat and said, “Mr. Potter here to talk to Griphook, Account Manager to the House of Potter”. Although, he had meant to be firm, the statement came out sounding more like a question. The goblin didn’t say anything but raised a long, knuckled finger toward a hallway off the main chamber. Harry nodded his thanks, although he still wasn’t sure where he was supposed to be going and walked toward the hall.

It was with relief that Harry noticed the engraved doors. There seemed to be one every few feet that read names like, “Gornuk”, “Bogrod” and “Ragnok”. He eventually made it to a door that read “Griphook”, and taking a deep breath to settle his nerves, knocked three times.

“Enter”, came a gnarled voice from inside.

Harry inched the door open and stepped into what appeared to be a small, but ornate office. The goblin who was sitting in a tall-backed chair behind an oak desk, Harry presumed it to be Griphook, gestured to the chair across from him. Harry sat down and resisted the urge to stare at his feet.

“Well at least we know you can get mail”, drawled the creature in front of him.

Harry’s mouth fell in indignation and he managed to splutter out, “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I’ve never gotten any mail from Gringotts before last night!”

Griphook looked Harry over with hard eyes but was met with only defiance. Whatever he saw must have convinced him that Harry was telling the truth because it was now Griphook staring at _him_ in confusion. Reaching into a drawer in his desk, Griphook pulled out a stack of paper and set them in front of Harry. He then wrote something on a blank piece of parchment that, when Griphook tapped on it, glowed for a brief moment before disappearing.

“It seems Mr. Potter that we have a slight mystery on our hands. Here in front of you is a stack of all the correspondents that Gringotts has attempted to send you. We have received no response, and I assumed that you had been ignoring our missives. I know stand corrected.”

Harry thumbed through the stack, noticing the dates going from just a week ago all the way back to his first visit to the bank five years ago. He shook his head.

“I never received any of these.”

Griphook made a small hum of thought before the door to his office swiftly opened and a small goblin scurried in holding the piece of parchment that Griphook had sent out. As the newcomer whispered in Griphook’s ear, Harry watched as Griphook’s hairy face hardened.

“Thank you, you are dismissed”, said Griphook as he waved the other goblin away.

It wasn’t until the door to his office was firmly shut that Griphook spoke again.

“I offer a formal apology to you, Mr. Potter, from the Gringotts Bank and the Goblin Nation. It seems that your residence at Number 4 Privet Drive has an illegal mail ward around it honed into the bank. You would not have received anything from us while the ward was in effect.”

Harry blanched. “Who would do such a thing?”

“Someone who didn’t wish you to know your heritage and take your proper place in Wizard Society”.

“My proper place? Does this have to do with my position as Head of the House of Black?”

Griphook paused. “Yes and no. You do have a prominent place as the Black Head, but what I am talking about is your Lordship as Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter.”

Harry felt as though his face would become set in a constant state of confusion. “I don’t understand.”

Griphook must have taken pity of Harry’s plight, because his features softened slightly, as much as a goblin face could soften. Or perhaps it just became less harsh. He settled into his chair and laced his long fingers on the desk in front of him.

“What do you know about the Sacred Twenty-Eight Mr. Potter?”

“Nothing.”

“The Sacred Twenty-Eight houses are the most prominent houses in the Wizarding World” lectured Griphook. “Every house in the Wizarding World is led by a Head and a chosen Heir. Like other houses, the Heads of the Sacred Twenty-Eight can use familial magic to influence family member. They are tasked with managing the estates, finances and safety of the house and its members. However, unlike other houses, the Head and Heir of the Ancient and Noble Houses that make up the Sacred Twenty-Eight, are given the title Lord and Heir Apparent and can both vote in the Wizengamot. The two votes from each family make up the 56 seats of the Wizengamot.” Here Griphook seemed to hesitate before he said, “The Twenty-Eight are extremely influential in Wizarding society and make up almost 63% of the wealth of the Wizarding World.”

Harry paused, trying to absorb the information.

“So, nothing has really changed, right? I mean I already had a prominent position in society being the boy-who-lived and the Battle at the Ministry. Besides voting in the Wizengamot nothing much will be different.”

Griphook shook his head. “I don’t think you understand. Between the Black and Potter Houses you have the equivalent of almost 196.7 billion dollars, property on every continent, dozens of family members now under your care and management, investments in hundreds of businesses and an obligation to society. You are expected to attend certain functions and enter into a marriage contract, if one is not already enacted for you in the Potter or Black Vaults”.

Harry had been paling further and further with each world, and at the mention of a marriage contract got dangerously dizzy.

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry. Your position is not so dire” rushed Griphook, looking worried as Harry swayed in his chair. “As Manager of your Accounts I have managed all your investments kept your estates in order. However, you are expected to learn the laws and rules of society. It will take perhaps a week for a team of goblins to go through your vaults to see if there is indeed a marriage contract. You can return when I have the results, and we’ll talk about your Head Rings. If you will permit it, I can order the required books on the subjects from Flourish and Blotts and have them sent to your house in the meantime.”

Harry mutely nodded and stood shaking Griphook’s hand when appropriate. It was in a daze that he returned back to the Dursley’s and was startled when he realized that he was sitting on his bed staring blankly at the wall across from him. Although it was only six in the evening Harry felt exhausted and laid down to sleep.

Someone was tapdancing in his dream and Harry’s nose scrunched up in irritation. He was trying to enjoy his dinner in the Great Hall and the noise was extremely distracting. Just when Harry was about to turn and yell at whichever student was making such a racket, he awoke in a start. Two owls were sitting on his windowsill, a package between them, pecking their beaks at the glass. Harry snorted. Tapdancing indeed. Letting the birds in, Harry opened the package as the flew away again. Inside were three books: _Introduction to Modern Wizarding Manners_ , _Inside the Sacred Twenty-Eight_ and _A Beginners Guide to Wizarding Law_.

Harry sat back down hard on his bed as the memories of the day before came washing over him. For a moment he floundered under the pressure of his new position in society, but quickly straightening his back in determination. A small voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Hermione said that he should study and learn all he could about being Lord Potter-Black. So, Harry began to read.

Five days later saw Harry walking back up the steps toward the bank. Griphook had contacted him the day before and they had arranged a meeting. Entering Gringotts, Harry was waving toward the hallways of offices by a teller obviously expecting him. He knocked on Griphook’s door and was greeted by a familiar “Enter”.

“Hello Mr. Potter.”

“Hello Griphook!”

Griphook did a double take at Harry’s enthusiastic response which was so dichotomous to the end of their last meeting.

“I see you’ve acclimated to the situation.”

Harry smiled. “You don’t get attacked by a Dark Lord every year without learning to go with the flow.”

“Fair enough” thought the goblin before again gesturing for Harry to sit across from him. “Have you had a chance to read any of the books, Mr. Potter?”

Harry nodded.

“Good” was all Griphook said before pulling out two beautifully carved wooden boxes from his desk and sliding them towards Harry. They were each about the size of a deck of cards and featured the Crest of the Potter and Black Houses.

“Well to begin with we have to get you your Head Rings so you can officially be Lord Potter-Black.”

Harry opened the Potter box gently and gasped at the beautiful ring inside. It was a silver ring with a small blue stone. Turing toward the other box, this one for the Black family, Harry marveled at the next ring. It was also sliver but featured a clear yellow stone. Lifting both, he carefully placed one on each pinky as per tradition. A wash of magic came over him, like a cool breeze and Harry smiled at the feeling.

=Griphook nodded in approval. Harry obviously had read the books that he had provided. He only allowed Harry a minute to appreciate the family magic accepting him, before he opened a folder on his desk an took out a piece of paper.

He cleared his throat, causing Harry to open eyes he didn’t even know he had shut.

“We were able to find something in the Potter family vaults. It seems that your grandparents, that is your father’s parents, signed a courtship contract with some family friends. It was intended to be between your father, and the son on your grandparent’s contemporaries, however they allowed your father to marry your mother Lily as a love match. I assume in the war, and your family’s death that an annulment of the contract was overlooked. However, it falls to you to fulfill the contract.”

Harry sat for a second in thought. He had understood that it was a large possibility that he would have to fulfill a marriage contract, as the books had mentioned that they were still quite popular in high society. Although some might resent that they didn’t have a choice, Harry was happy not to deal with the attention seekers that had been hounding him after the defeat of Voldemort. At least he would know that whoever he was betrothed to would care for _him_ rather than his fame, as they were more than likely to also be from a prominent family.

Nodding to himself he said, “Alright. May I see the terms of the agreement?” Griphook handed him the contract which read:

BETROTHAL AGREMMENT DATED 10/4/1971

I, Charlus Potter, Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter and I, Pierre Bourcier, Head of the La Plus Haute Maison De Bourcier do agree in the sight of Mother Magic to the joining of our two houses under the following terms and conditions:

  1. The betrothed must enter a period of courtship no shorter than two months but no longer than one year
  2. At the end of the courtship period the betrothed must enter a union of equal standing
  3. The betrothed will have no more than two years before attempting to conceive
  4. The betrothed will attempt for at least two children and, barring unforeseen circumstances, the eldest will be named Héritier Apparent Bourcier and the second eldest will be named Heir Apparent Potter
  5. The betrothed must spend at least seven months out of the year in France, the remainder of the year may be spent in the country of the betrothed choice



By Mother Magic so Mote it Be

Had this been a couple years ago, Harry would have been very disturbed at the mention of both a male union and conceiving but had found out since that the Wizarding World didn’t much care about who married who. This was mostly due to two wizards being able to carry on the family name by producing heirs. Harry had never thought about being pregnant before but was after having been the last Potter for so long, was very excited to continue his family legacy. Only one section on the paper gave him pause.

“Griphook, why does the contract demand we live in France for the majority of the year? Surely my grandparents would have wanted my father to remain close.” Another though came to him. “And if my betrothed is the son of Pierre Bourcier wouldn’t that make him my parents age?”

“The Bourcier family is the most influential and wealthiest family in France. France in turn has a large amount of influence in the International Confederation of Wizards or ICW. La Plus Haute Maison means the Highest House and is the French version of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Technically, the House of Bourcier has a higher standing in Wizarding Society and as such you are expected to spend more time in their home country. This is also why your first born will be named Hair Apparent to the House of Bourcier. As for your second question, your father and mother married just after graduation at 18 and had you at 20. Lucas Bourcier, Pierre Bourcier’s son and your betrothed, was three years younger than your father and as such only 17 years older than you. Given Wizard’s long-life span, this age gap is considered inconsequential.”

Harry accepted this explanation before musing, “Is Lucas aware of the situation?”

“We don’t believe so. I have more information for you, however.”

Harry was startled out of his thoughts by Griphook’s words. What more could he possible throw at him?

“What do you mean?”

“Our curse breakers evaluated the illegal wards around your house to determine the culprit. We found a magical print belonging to Albus Dumbledore which was confirmed by our records of his magical signature. This prompted an in-depth investigation into Dumbledore’s accounts where we found monthly transactions to Hermione Granger, Molly Weasley, Ron Weasley and Ginny Weasley for reasons such as ‘having to deal with the Potter Brat’ and their ‘continued cooperation toward the Greater Good’”. Griphook seemed at a loss of what to say before going with a simple “I’m sorry”. 

Harry heard the blood rushing in his ears, the warmth flooding to his face in anger while at the same time his stomach dropped in disgust and his eyes filled with tears in grief. His head hurt with the jumble of emotions he was experiencing. It took him almost a minute to realize that Griphook had swiftly moved around the desk and was awkwardly patting his arm. A glass of water appeared in front of him, but Harry was too busy struggling to get his hyperventilating under control.

Throughout all of this mess, finding out he was a Lord of two Houses, and he was expected to marry a man he’d never met, Harry had counted on the presence of his best friends and his adopted family. They had been a rock when everything else had been chaos, there for him since he had entered the Wizarding World. What was he supposed to do now? His godfather was dead, his mentor apparently kept him in the dark about his heritage and bribed his chosen family to be near him…. Oh god he had no one, absolutely no one in his life to turn to.

He had to get out of here.

His skin felt too tight for his face.

He had to get out of here.

His heart was surely bruising the inside of his ribcage.

He had to get out of here

With a hasty excuse to Griphook, Harry fled.


End file.
